


trading territories

by lonelylonely



Category: Gone Girl - Gillian Flynn
Genre: F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3798196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelylonely/pseuds/lonelylonely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Amy was clever, withering, sarcastic. Amy could get me riled up, could make an excellent, barbed point, but Go always made me laugh. It is dangerous to laugh at your spouse."</p>
<p>The first time Amy and Margo met, it was a bloodbath made of too-sharp smiles and not-subtle-enough jokes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trading territories

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings to be safe. Not as incest-y as it could have been, but maybe too incest-y for some people.

The first time Amy and Margo met, it was a bloodbath made of too-sharp smiles and not-subtle-enough jokes.

Go, the spunky Midwestern girl from Missouri, was just a trespasser in Amy’s territory. A New York transplant – like Nick, but without the charm –invading Amy’s stomping grounds: the city she grew up in and knew like the back of her regimentally lotioned hand; the boyfriend she had known for months who slid into his sister’s embrace like he never had hers, like it was home. Go slipped between them like a bookmark, marking her place.

And Amy, well, Amy was in Go’s territory too. Amy was with Nick.

Margo was no stranger to the song-and-dance of meeting Nick’s girlfriend-of-the-month. Nick was a good-looking kid who grew into a good-looking man, and was never want for a hand to hold or a mouth to fuck. Margo had mastered the “Hi-nice-to-meet-you”s that slipped out of the corner of her mouth like the barely concealed lies they were. But Amy, she held to Nick’s hand with her pretty painted nails – not tightly, like those who were scared Nick would just drift away someday, no – like a woman holding onto the collar of her prized show dog, parading him, without a doubt in her mind that he would never stray, that he was hers.

The look she gave Go was a flash in the pan, one she caught over Nick’s shoulder as he pulled her up into a hug, one that was replaced so quickly with a sweet-as-pie smile that Go had to convince herself she had seen it at all.

But they shook each other’s hands like the dutiful girlfriend and sister that they were, respectively – the introductions too formal, Go as “Margo,” Amy as “Amy Elliot” – and everyone smiled, everyone acquainted, until –

“Wait –  _Amazing_  Amy?” But Go said it with the sarcastic bite that substituted the usual recognition and awe, and Nick snorted softly before swatting her shoulder, his smirk giving himself away. “Sorry,” – she wasn't – “I just never thought I’d get the chance to meet  _Amazing Amy._  Did you really play the violin at Carnegie Hall at age 10? Sorry, I shouldn't ask that. I've just never met anyone  _famous_ before – except, wait, I saw Kate Gosselin across 42nd Street one time –”

Without missing a beat, without a fracture in her smile, Amy interjected. “And  _I_ never thought I’d meet an investment banker from North Carthage, Missouri.” Her smile widened. “Life’s funny, isn't it?”

Amy was good at faking her smiles – always had been – but Margo wore her dissatisfaction like her favorite pair of bright red lipstick – bold and noticeable and unapologetic. Like Nick, she didn't possess the particular talent for fabricating niceties, but her attempt was valiant as she pulled the corner of her lips up in what she hoped was a game smile.

“Anyway,” Amy continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, “I figured I’d have to meet you sooner or later. It was just a matter of time, at this point.”

Margo’s smile slipped. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Nick’s met my parents and we've been talking about making the trip up to meet his – is it up? Or down? Where is Missouri?”

“It’s down. So, you guys are getting serious, huh?” She asked the question with a pointed look at Nick, as if Amy wasn't in the room, but Nick stared determinedly down at his shoes and didn't meet her eyes.

“Yes,” Amy answered as she slipped her hand back into his. “You could say that.”

***

“I don’t like her.”

“You met her  _once._ ”

“Yeah, and whose fault is  _that_.”

Nick glared at Go as she sat on the arm of her couch. “I know how you are. You acted exactly how I expected you to, and look what happened.”

“You’ve never had a problem with how I’ve acted around your girlfriends before. It’s not my fault she can’t take a joke.”

He didn’t answer. She changed tactics.

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you hadn’t wait – what? Weeks? Months? How long have you been dating this chick, anyway?”

Nick sighed heavily. “About five months.”

“Five months, wow. Okay. And you waited that long, why? You thought the longer time passed, the less opportunity I’d have to make her feel uncomfortable about how uptight she is?” Nick rolled his eyes. “Or, what? What is it? You thought you wouldn't have lasted this long, is that it?”

“Maybe! I don’t know, Go. I knew you wouldn't like her – something just told me – and the longer I waited, the less likely it seemed that I’d even have to introduce you.”

Her smile was bitter and manic as she popped the cap off her third bottle of beer of the night. “Tell me something. Does what I think not matter to you anymore?”

Nick followed suit, grabbing a bottle out of the fridge and clinking it with hers out of habit. “Of course it does,” he said around the mouth of the bottle.

“Doesn't that tell you something, Nick? That you knew I wouldn't like her? I know you better than anyone. I want you to be happy. Just … not with her.”

His eyes were hard and searching as he met her gaze, each willing the other to back down first. In the end, it was Margo who bowed her head, and Nick tilted his up to take another drink.

“You decided you didn’t like her the second she walked in the door. You didn't even give her a chance. She didn't do anything wrong, Go.  _You_  were the one acting like an asshole.” He chugged the rest of his beer before getting up, Margo’s eyes burning holes in the back of his head.

“ _You_  seemed to think it was funny,” she muttered before hearing the bathroom door slam shut. Go took a moment to gather herself up before stomping purposefully down the hallway of her flat. She slumped against the threshold of the bathroom door, swirling her beer in one hand and watching the foam dissipate. “Do you love her?”

She could hear Nick sigh through the closed door. “Do you actually want me to answer that question?”

“Does she love you?”

“I don’t know. Ask her.”

“ _I_ love you.”

It was quiet for a minute. Margo waited outside the door, clutching her nearly empty beer bottle in both hands. She heard the sink run, then shut off, and she looked up to the spot where she knew Nick’s face would be when he opened the door.

His eyes were tired and a little sad.

“ _I_  love you,” Go repeated, quieter this time.

“I love you, too. You know I do.”

Go shifted her bottle to one hand and ran the other down the length of his forearm, down his wrist, and pulled his hand toward her. His skin was still damp. She ran her fingertips over the webs between his fingers, flipped his hand over and felt the hills and valleys of his palm as if she were telling his fortune. She slipped her hand into Nick’s and his enveloped it automatically.

“I’ll try,” she said, squeezing his hand as she looked back up at him. “For you.”

He smiled thankfully at her and she pointed the top of her beer bottle at him.

“However, I reserve the right to ask her to autograph an Amazing Amy book if she pisses me off again.”


End file.
